The harvest this year was going against the young women,
not just the two men's claims but are his own appetites,
I'd rather have my behind spouses quiet spell in the road
not the woman in question píobach from mountain and milking her cow.

Dear southern girl's hair yellow,
moves me forward if you drink wine,
is that dtógfása the fog of sadness in my heart
As the torch of oats would wind day '.

A cheerful boy, where did you slept last night?
On surround your bed you felt as I did,
Two insínn thee their m'anó you chodlódh not stunning,
and that your conversation was going all the way to left center arraing my bosom.

A cheerful boy, you fheice not God,
Two would be a ray of sun was going ahead and behind,
As for me as I hit you pretty dispirited
And you were my habits while chliú remains in me I live.

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